


An Underwhelming Fallout

by neoncanvas21



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Carlos de Vil has PTSD, Chad Charming has PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Set after D3, feelings if you squint, no plot they just talk and walk and feel, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22960996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoncanvas21/pseuds/neoncanvas21
Summary: Carlos had been expecting something-consquences, a fallout perhaps, since Audrey's wicked stint and the proclamation that finally brought all of the VKs over.He just hadn't expected it to be Chad, trapped in the equipment room.
Relationships: Chad Charming & Carlos de Vil, Chad Charming/Carlos de Vil
Comments: 14
Kudos: 101





	An Underwhelming Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> me: chad sucks  
> also me:

It’s only been a couple of weeks since the huge uproar from the sudden wave of VKs joining (or rather disrupting) classes, and Carlos admits that he’d been expecting something big to happen since. A fallout, perhaps.

But it’s an underwhelming something to overhear in the locker rooms after practice some guys who still hadn’t gotten all of their nervous energy out through bruises and scrapes on the field, jeering about the pathetic state of one Chad Charming locked in the equipment room.

Underwhelming and unsurprising.

People don’t like to feel helpless, and they’ll take it out on anyone to make themselves feel better. It was just their luck and Chad’s misfortune that they were able to target someone so close to the source.

Everyone had heard of the events that brought the VKs to Auradon, the 24-hour lockdown that occurred when a villain tried to take over the entire kingdom and either put everyone in a cursed sleep or turned them to stone. Everyone had heard about Audrey’s wicked stint and Chad’s cowardly stunt to stay by her side and safe at Jane’s birthday party.

When all was said and done, Audrey had the excuse of some level of possession from one of the most powerful objects in all the land.

Chad did not.

To call the former prince charming unpopular was an understatement. He already had a declining reputation among the Auradon student body before everything went down, but now it was officially tanked. And among the newly added VKs he had no reputation to begin with. They saw his actions for what it was—cowardice and ass-kissing at the level of the lowest-tier henchman.

If Carlos was a year younger and still trapped on the Isle, he would say whatever’s happened to Chad is well deserved. Dug his own grave, reaped what he sowed, as the sayings go.

But he and his friends are good guys, _heroes_ now, and heroes going on a streak of forgiveness if the way Uma’s gang has melded with their own and Audrey hanging around with Mal and Ben are any indication.

And…unfortunately, he gets it.

Poorly executed, but Chad did what he did to survive.

Carlos gets self-preservation. He can’t fault anyone for that.

So he shuts his locker, interrupts the laughter as he cuts through the group, and makes his way to the equipment room.

\----

As he approaches the equipment room, tucked beside the bleachers, Carlos hears frantic banging on the door from halfway down the field, but there’s no one around to hear it.

“Audrey! Audrey!” Chad’s voice is pleading. “Ben? Ben are you there?” he shouts, hopeful.

“Audrey, please let me out!” Carlos’ hand stills at the door handle. He was there the last time Chad was locked in some small room in a cottage, no doubt having been trapped there for hours after Audrey deemed him useless, rightfully so, to her cause. He sounds just as panicked, and the way he’s calling out for Audrey when only the Tourney team was out here means Chad’s mind must be stuck back there. He pulls his hand from the knob.

“Chad?” Carlos calls, ear against the door. “Chad, it’s Carlos.”

“Audrey! My queen! Let me out! Let me out letmeoutletmeout!”

“Chad,” Carlos returns, voice even. The last thing he wants to do is raise his voice and play into the scenario in Chad’s mind, as he’s sure Audrey had taken on a more violent and loud temperament when she was possessed by the scepter, becoming more like its true owner.

What stops him from wrenching the door open is his memory of the first time in the cottage, when Chad darted out of the open door as quickly as he could, shouting his freedom.

First off, bad way to draw those guys back to shove him into the equipment room again, possibly with Carlos too this time, and second, Carlos doesn’t think he has it in him to chase Chad down, not after hours of running already.

Again, if he was a year younger and hadn’t spent the last several months sitting idle, studying, it’d be different. But it’s now and he’s working up the nerve to talk down _Chad Charming_ of all people.

“It’s Carlos de Vil,” he tries. “You’re in the equipment room by the Tourney field at Auradon Prep. Some jerks from the team must’ve tricked you after practice and got you stuck.”

After hearing no break in Chad’s chanting and figuring his words aren’t getting through whatever was in Chad’s mind, he knocks, something polite he doubts Audrey would’ve done when she was evil.

_Knock-knock-knockknock-knock_

And waits for the return.

With a faint and hesitant _tap-tap_ Carlos lets out a breath. Chad was here enough to register that, which made things a bit easier. He tries again.

“Chad, you’re in the equipment room by the field,” he repeats. “Do you know who I am? Who’s speaking to you?” It takes some time, but he gets a response.

“…Male voice. Not Audrey. Ben? Ben! Oh thank god you’re here! Audrey—she trapped me after I didn’t come up with any good ideas to trap those stupid, no good, _rotten_ VKs.”

Ah, at least that was somewhat normal.

“Try again. It’s Carlos. de Vil. The not so stupid, no good, rotten VK. White and black hair and wardrobe, carries around a dog—” he ignores the sharp intake of breath audible through the door at that word. “—Owns the 3D printer you’re always using, you rotten AK,” he tries for humor at the end, like they’re friends. Probably not the best time and definitely overstepping.

“…Carlos. Right. I’m talking to Carlos and I’m in the equipment room. C-can you let me out, Carlos? Please? Pleasepleaseletmeout! Let me out—”

Chad’s still begging, only replacing the name in his chant. It’s not ideal but it may be as good as they get when they’re physically separated by the door, and Chad has nothing visual to affirm what he’s hearing. He just has to hope Chad will come around once he’s out.

“It’s Carlos and I’m going to open the door. Please don’t rush past me and leave me here, it’s a long walk back to school by myself.”

“O-okay… It’s Carlos and I’ll just step outside just like that and we’ll calmly walk back.”

Carlos nods, even though Chad can’t see him. It sounds like he’s there enough and won’t leave Carlos behind in a puff of smoke.

He pulls on the handle. It doesn’t budge.

“Shit.”

“ _Carlos!_ ” Chad’s voice is getting shrill. “I-I thought, oh buddy o’ mine, _you were going to let me out?_ ”

Carlos doesn’t have a key. The only ones who do are probably Coach or the team captain, Ben, but then how was this open for those guys to lock Chad inside in the first place?

“Please! I’ll do anything! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“Chad.” Carlos says, firm. “The door is locked. I’m going to find the key, you just need to stay with me.”

Chad restarts his blubbering begging and Carlos runs a hand down his face.

Time to phone a friend.

_“Sup, ‘Los? Where are you? I thought we were going to start that stupid project. You’re not trying to get me to do the work by not showing up, are you?”_

“Aw, Jay, when have I ever tried to trick you like that?”

_“Uh since like week two of Auradon.”_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, honestly,” he smiles, but is quickly somber. “Jay, I’m still at the Tourney field. I have to bail on our plans, I’m with Chad—“

_“Oh, shit. Chad?”_

“Yeah, he’s stuck in the equipment room and seems to be reliving whatever he went through with evil Audrey. I was going to get him out but the door’s locked. Do you know who has a key?”

_“Coach and Ben have keys, but you don’t want to bring either of them there, it’d turn into a big scene. They just wouldn’t know what to do with that.”_

That. This. Chad freaking out about the events of two weeks ago. A fresh, raw wound.

“Any other sets of keys by chance? Or ways into the equipment room? If Ben and Coach are the ones who have keys, how did those guys get Chad in there?”

_“What guys? Chad volunteered to put the equipment back. Even if the door shut he should be able to get out without a key. It’s going in that you need it.”_

Oh.

Intentional or not, this was self-inflicted.

That explains those guys in the locker room. They’d probably seen Chad go in, the door shutting behind him, and heard him yell for Audrey.

Cruel bystanders, but not the perpetrators.

“Thanks, Jay. I’m going to try to talk him out.”

_“Do you want me to come help? This kind of thing is harder to handle alone.”_

They both know that at least two people are better, one to try to talk them down and the other to try to restrain if the situation turns violent, as it usually does. But Carlos isn’t worried about that. This time is different. Carlos can handle a lone Auradonian.

Carlos can handle Chad.

He takes a calming breath. “Thanks for the offer, but Chad doesn’t seem like he can wait long. I’ll get him out and if I need to I know I can call you.”

_“I know you can handle yourself, ‘Los. Just…be careful.”_ Carlos smirks at the blatant admission of affection. This is different too.

“I will.” He hangs up and turns his attention back to the door, where he doubts Chad heard any of that conversation.

He knocks again, loud enough to disrupt Chad’s continued cries for freedom.

“Chad, it’s Carlos. Are you at the door?”

“Yes, Ben—my queen, please let me out! Please! Iwantmymommy—”

“It’s Carlos,” he tries again. “Can you find the door knob on your side?” The lights could be off, or that Chad is simply seeing somewhere else.

Chad answers through the frantic jiggling of the knob Carlos hears as Chad pushes and pulls, still unaware.

“Breathe with me, Chad,” he says, audibly inhaling and exhaling at a steady pace. “This is not the cottage door. The equipment room has a knob, turn it to the right slowly, same pace in—and—out.”

Carlos continues to dictate his breathing while he hears gulps of air and watches the knob turn slowly.

At last the door opens.

Chad takes off running, slipping by Carlos like a jackrabbit.

Oh for the love of—

“Chad!” Carlos barks, and Chad screeches to a halt.

“Wh-what do you mean, I wasn’t running away, no ma’am—sir—King—Queen! Not this loyal guy here.” Chad’s fallen to the ground and has his hands out as though showing he’s unarmed, a pathetic—no, _sad_ , mirror to Carlos’ own placating manner.

Carlos didn’t mean to sound so harsh, just to stop Chad from running away, but now guilt begins to gnaw at his insides.

He’s never been on the other side of this. It’s.

Different.

“Breathe, Chad,” he hopes he sounds calm, hopes it doesn’t sound like an order. He repeats his words from the door—he’s Carlos, Chad’s here in Auradon after Tourney, he’s safe, he’s fine—and lowers himself to the ground where Chad is knelt.

It takes some time, but he can tell when Chad finally comes back because he sinks into the ground even more, exhausted.

“Oh my god,” Chad mutters, curled in a ball, face in the grass.

Carlos sits, joining him. It’s silent, Chad still breathing heavily into the dirt, loosely gripping handfuls of grass.

“Chad,” he starts lowly, quietly, possibly gently. “You’re back with me, right?”

Chad exhales a breath he’d apparently been holding while Carlos spoke and nods minutely.

“Good. Great. I’m glad. Take your time, do what you need to do. I mean it.”

The silence returns and Carlos worries about where to go from here. Usually—well, this was already highly unusual, so he has no frame of reference.

Are they friends? Frenemies? He doesn’t think he’s spoken a word to Chad in weeks, even before the incident, and the prince was like an annoying fly before, always being noisy and invading his space. That is, when he wasn’t being a judgmental jerk.

Now, though, where do they stand? Is Carlos supposed to keep helping?

He closes his eyes, breathes, and relaxes, releasing tension he didn’t know he was holding. He just has to be patient to wrap this up quickly and exit the situation in a way that doesn’t make him feel guilty. He’d learned early on in Auradon that guilt is a good gauge for whether or not what he does is good or bad.

Chad eventually loosens his grip on the grass and sits up, looking to the side where the dorms sit in the distance. Carlos searches for his eyes but lets it be once Chad doesn’t budge. Its embarrassing, to show this weakness. You have to come out of it looking twice as strong, even if you don’t feel it, or else someone will take advantage of it.

Carlos is ready to give him that strength if that’s what Chad wants. He won’t take advantage. He’s _good_ now.

Carlos is about to pick himself up and snark a flippant goodbye as though nothing happened when Chad finally meets his eyes.

“Thanks,” he croaks.

Carlos stares.

Even after all of this time in Auradon, to be acknowledged still catches him off guard.

“Yeah—uh—no problem.”

Carlos takes a moment to finally look at Chad and check his state. Chad’s eyes are red and watery, evidence of tears and snot on his face. His hair is a disheveled mess, but that was the norm for Chad, and he’s sweaty and grimy, a combination of panic and Tourney practice.

His hands though, are cracked and red, solely from the panic and not the practice. He thinks about Chad banging on the door, begging, clawing in desperation to get out.

“Do you want a band-aid?” Carlos asks, already fishing through a pocket to pull out a wad of crumpled packages. Chad raises a brow, confused, until he tracks Carlos’ eyes to his red hands in his lap.

“Do you always carry around a first-aid kit with you?” Chad tries to sound snide as he asks but still accepts each band-aid that Carlos unwraps, sticking them haphazardly around his fingers.

“I tend to need one.”

Chad winces and Carlos rolls his eyes.

He knows Chad’s thinking about the Isle, how hurting people and being hurt was everyday.

He’s thinking that Carlos was on the receiving end more often than not. While true, it’s not from anyone Chad is thinking and Carlos doesn’t need the pity from anyone, least of all him.

He was just joking and it fell flat. Again. He needs to work on his Auradon humor.

“I mean, I’ve been building stuff my whole life. I was bound to slip up and hurt myself sometimes.” It’s a half truth, a white lie to keep the conversation light. He doesn’t feel guilty, so he thinks Fairy Godmother would give the points to him in Goodness class.

“Anyways, this really is a temporary solution, you need to get cleaned up. The equipment room is probably filthy from years of dirt and sweat from teenage boys, you don’t want to catch something gross. Are you feeling up for heading back?”

“Disgusting. Wouldn’t want to turn into a teenage boy now would I?”

“Especially not a prince.” Carlos wrinkles his nose in faux disgust. “They’re everywhere and their influence spreads like the plague.”

The corner of Chad’s mouth twitches up and Carlos is pleasantly surprised they were able to exchange a few normal words.

Chad’s not half bad when he’s sane and not a self-serving pompous jerk.

That’s a first.

“…Sure, we can go back,” Chad mutters, finally answering the question. He’s clearly still embarrassed by the whole situation, but Carlos is already not judging.

He tries to make Chad feel better. “Your face is a mess.”

Chad’s face reddens.

“I mean, it’s completely normal, considering the circumstances,” he tries to fix his bluntness. “We can go to the locker room and wash it all off before going back to the dorms if you want.”

Chad stares, eyebrow raised.

Confused.

Of course. He’s being nice. Too nice. Overly nice about this whole thing and he knows it comes across as pity. First talking him down, then band-aids, and now walking him back?

He has to explain himself. If he were in Chad’s shoes he wouldn’t believe it either, he’d be waiting for the trick.

“Listen, once we get back to the dorms we can go back to whatever weird relationship we have where I simply exist and you steal my shit and hate me, but in the meantime I’m…here for you.”

Chad stares at him. Carlos squirms and fiddles with some grass.

“I get it. You went through some awful shit and just because it’s magically over doesn’t mean you’re magically over it. It happens to everyone. I’m not going to kick you while you’re down.” Though his instincts still urge otherwise.

Chad takes a moment but seems slightly impressed by the answer and gets up, scrubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to wipe it all away. “We can skip the locker room. This whole thing was tiring and I’d like to pass out in peace.”

Carlos nods. He gets up too and they start walking back.

\----

It’s only been about a minute before Chad picks the conversation back up.

“It doesn’t happen to everyone, though,” Chad says, quiet, thoughtful.

“What?”

“I’m overreacting. Everyone else is magically over it,” he says, louder. “You don’t see anyone else freaking out about falling asleep or turning to stone do you? I heard Ben got turned into a _beast_ and he’s back to running Auradon and handling a bunch of newly arrived VKs and talking to Audrey the next day, _no problem_.”

_I’m weak_ is Chad’s unspoken admission.

If there’s one thing Auradon still hasn’t figured out, it’s how to deal with the aftermath of villain takeovers. They’re the absolute worst at coping. The last time this happened they literally shoved the problems away to an island and ignored them, which was a solution that came back to go to school with their children.

“Chances are you’re not alone,” Carlos shrugs. “Different circumstances, different things that affect them. Maybe they haven’t been put in situations that remind them of being turned to stone. Or maybe everyone freaks out before they fall asleep at night thinking that if they do, they won’t wake up for a hundred years. People try their best to hide it because they see everyone else doing fine.”

Chad doesn’t look any more comforted, even though Carlos made some very reasonable points.

“I mean, dogs used to freak me out,” he admits, figuring that Chad can’t wrap his mind around his own circumstances but may be able to understand another’s. Maybe one that happened more than a couple weeks ago, something a little less close to home.

He never thought he’d be sharing this with anyone from Auradon, least of all Chad, but well, things continue to be different.

“Before I met Dude I thought dogs were pure evil,” he sighs, looking at his feet while they walk. “Ironic, I know. I’m the villain.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Chad grimace and open his mouth to speak but Carlos doesn’t let him. He’s going to get through this quickly and succinctly, making the objective point he needs to and then logically connecting it to Chad’s situation.

That’s all this is.

An example.

“Cruella is still…upset about losing the Dalmatians.” He hears Chad’s questioning tone but ignores whatever words he says, barreling through. Ripping it off quickly, like his band-aids.

“She absolutely despises them, and would rant nonstop about how vicious and nasty they are. Scared the shit out of me, and I dreaded the day I’d ever run across a dog. Made me glad we don’t really have things like animals or dogs on the Isle. “ But plenty of their remnants, all stuffed away in a closet for safe keeping.

“Cruella’d go on about how wretched they are, but she’d also go on and on about how their furs are the most beautiful patterns and their texture so unique, unlike any other animal.”

_But your fur, it’s not so bad, almost as good as a dog’s. Let’s cut it straight and short, to keep its sheen and luster perfect from all angles—very important for clothes, you know._

“To Cruella, the only good dog is a dead dog.” He gulps and stops walking. His eyes are blurring and he concentrates on blinking, focusing on the individual blades of grass beneath him. He’s in Auradon, with Chad, and Cruella is about to come home and Carlos didn’t do his _chores._

“Which makes the way she’d treat me _hilarious_.”

He keeps blinking and staring. He knows it looks weird. He’s being weird. _That’s the lovely thing about clothes, puppy, it doesn’t matter how you act, how much you misbehave. We can forget all about it and you can be used for something better, something actually useful in the end._

“I’m not sure if she did it on purpose or if it was just Cruella being crazy, but she’d…” he takes a shuddering breath.

This is just an example so that Chad understands…something. It’s nothing. It’s over. She’s bringing over her shears to cut his fur, the sharp point dancing around his neck.

“She’d treat me like a _dog_ ,” he spits, unable to keep the venom out of his voice, out of his mind. He hates it. He hates her he hates _her_ he hates _dogs_ he hates _Dalmatians_ and their spots and his spots. He hates his matted curly fur— _unfortunately your fur will only make a pair of socks or gloves, only meant as accents but never the main piece_ —he hates her collection, her closet, hates being trapped in there and hates dreading the day he’ll be permanently hanging among the other poor beasts. He—

Feels a weight on his shoulder and turns to snap it off, to lash out, to protect himself.

“Whoa!” it draws back, and joins another hand up in the air.

Unarmed. But not harmless. He is not a fool.

“You—uh—you with me?” he hears in between his deep, uneasy breaths.

The voice is unfamiliar in his surroundings, in Hell Hall. Carlos sees Cruella waltzing around erratically with her long cigarette perched between two fingers, sees the dark of the closet, the clothes muffling the sound around him so all he hears is his own quick, shallow breaths. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and flinches, expecting Cruella. He sees his own two feet beneath him, standing in a vibrant green, a bright color that’s still a little unusual to him.

“I’m going to keep talking. Talking, yeah, saying words and stuff. Things that help. I’m Chad. Charming—Chad Charming, that’s me. In case you happen to know another Chad out there. You’re Carlos. You probably know that. We’re at Auradon Prep walking back to the dorms but we’re not so close that people could see if that’s a comfort. You guys are tough you probably don't like people seeing this. Hope this is helping I’m not sure what you did for—for me but talking and describing things are good right—?”

“Right,” Carlos squeaks as he gulps in a breath, closing eyes that had refocused midway through Chad’s spiel. He forces his shoulders down and pries open his clenched fists. He releases as much tension as he can while still being strung out and uncomfortable and not quite present.

He’s exhausted. And embarrassed. He can’t believe he let himself get caught up like that— _fingers twisting in his hair, yanking him across the room_ —he should and _does_ know better. _Her wild cackle retreats further down the hall, missing him. He dares to—_ he takes in a shuddering breath.

He needs to wrap this up quickly so they can get to the dorms now and put this behind him—behind _them_. Now they’ve both shown more than either of them wanted, which he supposes makes them equals at least.

Now neither of them will tell about the other’s weakness.

He looks up at Chad, who looks panicked and concerned and _pitying_.

“Stop that,” he snaps, and then bites his lip. He needs to calm down. “…. _please_.” he adds, politely.

He can’t remember why he went off down memory lane in the first place, which is frustrating since there at least needs to be a point in showing this vulnerability.

“Let’s just keep walking,” he decides, taking off. He needs to return to normality, back to the dorms. Chad slowly blinks and then scampers to catch up.

“W-what? Shouldn’t we talk about this or something?” Chad gestures nervously. Carlos ignores him. Nope. Definitely not talking about it ever and definitely not with _Chad_.

After a few more steps Chad swivels and holds his arms out, stopping Carlos in his tracks.

“I’ve changed my mind. I need to go to the locker room first.” Carlos raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “I forgot that my phone’s back there. I can’t live without it, y’know. Gotta text. Gotta take selfies.” Carlos reads through the lie but at least gives Chad credit for not stammering and the idiotic believability of the excuse. He gets the feeling that he is the reason Chad wants to go to the locker room first, but fails to understand why. The fastest way out of this for both of them is to return to the dorms and back to normality. And it’s not like he’s going to talk about in the locker rooms either.

“Fine,” he shrugs, shoulders stiff, and Chad leads them back.

\-----

The locker room is luckily (or unluckily?) unlocked and empty when they arrive.

Chad grabs his gym bag and heads towards the showers.

“What are you doing?” Carlos asks. “Your phone’s here, let’s go.” He holds up the phone that was left on one of the benches—Chad was actually telling the truth—and stares at Chad’s retreating back. They need to hurry up and get out of here, return to the dorms so that Carlos can retreat to his room and hide until he can put back on the mask that shook loose earlier. Auradon can’t see anything else—the VKs, him, they’re all happy and _fine_ —and the longer he’s out here the more likely that someone else will see him being otherwise.

“We’re here, we both may as well clean up,” Chad calls back. “I’m a mess and I can’t let the school see perfect prince Charming anything less than perfect!” It’s pompous and loud and so _fake_ that Carlos has to scoff in disbelief.

Who does Chad think he’s fooling? The prince has been far from the popular, possible ladies man of a year ago, before the VKs. Everyone had seen him at his lowest when he became Audrey’s lackey, echoing her anti-VK sentiments without thought, and he still sunk even lower to become evil Audrey’s bumbling henchman.

He waves the phone around as he hears the water turn on and resists the urge to throw it out of frustration or pocket it. It would serve Chad right to leave something valuable so vulnerable and in Carlos’ hands. Jay is known as the thief of the group, but Auradon still doesn’t know that Carlos’ fingers are just as sticky.

He stands and waits for a minute, before deciding that he might as well do something to clean himself up too. Princes take way too long to get ready, Chad especially.

He goes to the sinks to wash his hands at least, and stares at his reflection.

He sees crusted tears near his eyes that he had refused to let fall and sees where his teeth had busted his lip. He clenches his hands in frustration at having let his mind overwhelm him like that, and winces as his nails dig into open cuts that he’d made earlier.

It’s been awhile since he’s let himself look this affected, though for a few months now he hasn’t had many instances set him off like that. He’d been getting complacent, comfortable. He’d almost forgotten what this was like.

He scrubs his hands and face, desperate to reset the last few minutes that led them back here.

He recalls Chad’s claims of looking like a mess and realizes he wasn’t the only one. He pushes down the thought that Chad insisted on coming here for Carlos.

By the time Chad’s done in the showers, Carlos has been sitting, fiddling with Chad’s phone for a solid few minutes, long since cleaned up himself.

“What the—hey!” Chad exclaims as Carlos takes a photo of Chad, snickering. The prince has a towel wrapped around his head like Evie does, except Chad definitely doesn’t have the hair to justify it.

“You need a better password,” Carlos advises, tossing Chad his phone. It didn’t take too many variations of “King Chad” to crack it.

“You ought to keep your hands to yourself, filthy V—” Chad snaps his mouth shut, catching himself.

“Go ahead,” Carlos gives his permission. “Your words mean nothing to us.”

“Sorry,” Chad grimaces, pulling his clothes on. “Force of habit. Bad habit.”

“Rotten habit,” Carlos laughs.

Chad winces but stays silent, electing to unwrap the towel around his head and gather his things.

“What the—your hair?” Carlos questions.

“What about it?”

“It’s straight.”

“Oh—yeah, all the product must’ve washed out,” Chad shrugs. “You ready to head back?”

“You _choose_ to have your hair curly?” Carlos can’t imagine actually wanting the additional work, and for what?

Chad’s expression softens.

“Y’know, curly hair isn’t a bad thing. It’s not tangled or matted or anything, it’s fashionable. Heck, I’ll admit that your hair when you first showed up was a bit of inspiration to my new do.”

“ _Matted?_ ” And why bring up Carlos’ own formally curly hair?

Chad shrugs. “Y’know.”

_Fuck_ Carlos does know. Did he—he said some things out loud that he shouldn’t have.

“What do you know?” Carlos stands and bristles. “I only brought up that shit in the first place to try to make _you_ feel better for being a weak _bitch_ ,” he relishes in the flinch he gets from Chad. “At least I didn’t _embrace_ being treated like an animal. I fought it every way I could.”

“I don’t know—”

“Rumors spread quick, Charming. It’s too easy to picture you crawling at Audrey’s feet like the dog you are, waiting for orders from your master.” Degrading actions lower than a henchman, lower than those who did the same on the Isle because at least they weren’t taught better.

He didn’t know better.

“I—I—” Chad stammers, drawing in on himself. His face is the brightest shade of red and he’s wringing his hands rapidly, staring at Carlos with wide fearful eyes.

He can see Chad’s mind trying to put everything together, about what Carlos knows and how to explain himself. But Carlos knows there’s no way to really explain it, to justify it. People just don’t get it.

As his anger dissipates, he takes in the prince’s state and feels the smug satisfaction sink into a heavy weight in his chest, a telltale sign of guilt.

Fairy Godmother would be so disappointed.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” Carlos murmurs quickly, trying to fix his mistake. “That was…cruel.” Even away from evil influences, he’s still living up to his namesake. He’s been learning better, he knows better now, and he still falls back into old habits. Some _good guy_ he is.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that. I don’t mean it and I was lying about the rumors.” He wasn’t lying, but he did know it was only known among the VKs that had gone to the cottage and discovered Chad locked away, no one else. A little white lie to make things better.

“I…was lashing out at you and you don’t deserve it,” Carlos admits, following the instructions Fairy Godmother taught them about communication and expressing emotions. He doesn’t want to do this, he needs to learn to watch what he says better. He takes a deep breath, “I don’t like feeling vulnerable and I felt exposed having you know me like that. So I just said something I’d know would hurt you.”

“Doesn’t make it right, and I’m sorry.” His words feel sorely simple compared to the guilt weighing him down, and he wishes there was a bigger way to apologize.

Chad’s switched from wringing his hands to clenching them tightly, his whole body tense and wound as he listens to Carlos’ hasty apology. His wide-eyed gaze bores into Carlos’, trying to see into him. Chad gulps. “It’s…embarrassing,” he mutters. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His tone is fearful. He’s scared of someone knowing him too.

But Chad says nothing more, not to attack Carlos back or defend himself against his accusations. Carlos may have apologized, but by no means did he think it was enough. He was ready to accept at least a few verbal or physical jabs from the other boy to call them even, but Chad’s clearly attempting to put this behind them.

He wonders if it’s the ingrained Auradon goodness in Chad that makes him accept Carlos’ apology, just like that.

“Understandable. You talk about it with who you want to talk about it with _when_ you want to do it, no sooner.”

“When we get back to the dorms, none of this happened,” Carlos determines. “My lips are sealed and I’m good for my word.”

Chad nods, eyes still wide, and then shakes his head, as if shaking the thoughts out of it. “We should get going,” his tone is still uneasy. He picks up his things, aiming for nonchalance, and tosses the towel to a bin and misses.

\---

This is the longest walk back from the tourney field to the dorms Carlos has ever been on, but he blames the doubling back, and nothing that happened before or during, for their delay. They’ve picked up the pace slightly since the locker room, which Carlos is thankful for. If they’re around each other any longer he worries he might end up pushing and hurting Chad again. He hasn’t exactly done a good job helping the prince so far.

He’s still feeling a little out of it, and definitely exhausted from this whole ordeal and the Tourney practice before, but he decides he’s going to try to be on his best behavior from here on out. Chad’s been through enough today as it is and didn’t need Carlos taking out his own issues on him.

Again.

He thinks about safe conversation topics to breach the silence, like upcoming dances, graduation, or exams, but can’t pick one to start, not knowing how it will end. Trying to move past it might put them back in the middle with a few misspoken words, and they’re too close to the dorms now. Someone will actually see them if something goes down.

“I know nothing just happened, but I was being honest about your curly hair. I liked the look and was surprised when you changed it.”

Carlos starts and whips his head around to stare at Chad’s pink face in disbelief.

He’d been content not talking about it, just like Chad wanted, except the prince had still decided to go there.

He continues to stare at Chad’s increasingly red face, trying to figure out his angle.

Failing to see an ulterior motive, he huffs and figures out his own response. “I—um, thanks.”

Chad nods stiffly and then turns back in the direction they’re walking.

“I’ll have you know I straightened my hair for Evie,” Carlos explains. He feels like he owes Chad at least this. “Not for _her_. Never for her.”

“Evie likes experimenting and a few months after we arrived straight hair became the new thing. I let her try it out on me before she did it on her and Mals’ hair. I liked that all four of us matched, so I kept it.”

“…That’s cute,” Chad mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“What? Nothing!” Chad exclaims. “I mean, just, it’s nice that you guys like to match and stuff.”

“We’re all in Mal’s gang. Of course we match.” How else to show a unified front?

Chad just smiles and continues walking.

Well, since Chad had already gone there. He owes it to Chad to explain himself, after what he dragged him through.

“Speaking of things that didn’t happen. The original point to my story about dogs,” Carlos starts, silencing Chad’s worried questioning look before it’s voiced, “was to say that just because you’re fine and safe doesn’t mean what happened disappears. I’d—I’d never met a dog before Dude and I found out how good and sweet and fun they can be. But it wasn’t just magic and poof I love dogs and forgot all of the shit that made me hate them. I…a little part of me still hates dogs,” he admits, sneaking a glance at Chad’s face, his brows scrunched up in confusion, but not horror. “And I still love Dude! I love him so much. I just…I don’t know that I’ll ever get over it but I can’t let anyone know that, because being anything less than perfectly fine is such a big deal, and I don’t want to get sent back.”

“B-but so, yeah,” he gulps, trying to backtrack from his rambling. “Long story short everyone’s just pretending to be fine right now and are carrying shit with them that’s going to explode sometime so uh, you’re not alone and you’re not weak for expressing it.”

He hopes his explanation helps, hopes that Chad doesn’t do anything with the knowledge that Carlos is anything but unequivocally 100% devoted to loving dogs, knows that any hint otherwise to anyone else in Auradon will take Dude away to a better owner.

“You guys aren’t getting sent back,” Chad says, concern scrunching his face.

Carlos starts. “What?”

“You’re not. None of you guys, ever. Ben is _so_ happy, this is exactly what he wanted when he first brought you guys over. Everyone else is happy. And I guess…I’m happy too, just working on getting over myself. You don’t need to be on your best behavior, you’re here to stay.”

“I…wasn’t,” Carlos lies. He shakes his head, “Don’t change the topic. This is supposed to be about you!” Chad turns away.

“Chad, you probably should talk to someone about…what happened.” Chad raises a brow. “Yeah yeah, takes one to know one, but I have my friends I can talk to if I really want to and I’ve had time to…address it.”

“Suppress it?”

“Fuck off,” Carlos spits, unable to help himself. “I don’t know, you don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to, but it helps to have people who understand.” Makes him feel less alone.

“That’s the problem,” Chad bites his lip, staring off at the back doors of the dorm as they approach the building. “I screwed up. I don’t really have anyone anymore. It used to be just the three of us, me, Ben, and Audrey, ruling the school, and I’ve…been avoiding Audrey lately. Obviously. Ben’s the only one left, and it’s because there’s nothing anyone could do that he wouldn’t forgive. And he’s busy enough without my issues.”

Evil, Carlos knows what’s expected next. He can imagine Fairy Godmother standing off to the side with her arms crossed, waiting for the Good answer.

“If you…if you need someone to just listen, I…wouldn’t mind.” Somehow that admission isn’t as painful as he thought it’d be.

It’s Chad’s turn to whip around and stare at Carlos. “You don’t actually mean that.” Carlos feels his face heat up.

“…I do.” And somehow he does. Chad continues to stare at Carlos in disbelief, waiting for an explanation that Carlos doesn’t really have. “I don’t know, Chad!” Carlos exclaims, wanting Chad’s eyes to stop looking into him. “I know we’re not friends, not even remotely friendly to each other, but you went through some shit and you shouldn’t have to deal with it all on your own. I know it’s the _good_ thing to offer but I’m not offering because of that. No one should have to deal with it all on their own.” The words come rushing out and Carlos blinks at how easy they did, how it really is how he feels.

Chad is silent, considering.

“Whatever, the offer’s still out there you can take it or leave it,” Carlos huffs.

“…I might,” Chad admits. They stop at the doors at the top of the steps. “…Thanks,” Chad mutters, face pink, smiling. “This afternoon was stupid but you really did make it better.”

Carlos’ face warms. “Yeah, well, you’re alright Charming,” he dismisses, turning away. Too many nice and good Auradon feelings sitting on the surface, it was getting overwhelming.

“Where are you going?”

“Up,” Carlos points. “I’m going back to my room and there’s no way I’m going to be seen walking in those doors with a filthy prince like you,” he grins.

“Typical no good VK,” Chad returns.

\----

Carlos enters his and Jay’s room to the thief’s face scrunched up in confusion, surrounded by open books.

“ _Finally_ ,” he says, looking up at Carlos. He glances up and down at Carlos’ state and raises a brow. “You good? Chad didn’t pull anything did he?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Carlos’ lips turn up into a small grin. “Chad’s ok, actually.”

“ _No_ ,” Jay exclaims. “Really? No way.” He pauses, thinking. “Really?”

Carlos laughs, “Really. I’m going to go get cleaned up, then I’ll start with my share of the project.”

“Oh thank god, ‘Los, I was dying here without you.”

“Seems to be the trend among dumb Tourney players today.”

“You did _not_ just compare me to Chad, did you?”

Carlos smiles and waves him off, considering what just went down with the prince. This fallout from the last couple of weeks wasn’t as underwhelming as he’d expected, and maybe he was looking forward to seeing more of the prince from now on too.


End file.
